


Requiem

by CorpulentMongoose



Series: Songs in Shadow [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Sith Era - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Politics, Gen, Multi, Other, Philosophy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-03-02 19:17:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2823113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorpulentMongoose/pseuds/CorpulentMongoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marius begins a new stage of his apprenticeship to Darth Salire, completing missions in her name throughout the galaxy. But the people and events he encounters will challenge his very understanding about who he is, who he wants to become, and what it means to be Sith. </p>
<p>This work takes place after the chapters of <i>Prelude</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introitus

**3661 BBY  
Imperial date 1312.11.28**

 

Delos Kayd checked the hyperdrive readouts for the third time, then glanced at the caravel ship’s front view port. 

The glass panel reflected his rich umber complexion and the shine of his tightly coiled hair. It also caught the glint of a freshly-minted sub-lieutenant’s insignia pinned to the collar of his uniform. He usually wouldn’t hesitate to admire himself in a chance reflection. Maybe it was a little conceited, but it was a minor vice. Besides, one only had to ride the _Vanity’s_ elevators a few times to see officers of every rank preening in front of the transparent walls. It’s like they thought that once the doors closed, no one could see them.

This situation was different. Kayd wasn’t alone on the bridge.

Marius hadn’t moved for the last hour. The Sith still occupied the captain's chair in the center of the caravel's small bridge, leaning heavily on an armrest. He was intently focused on the datapad he held in front of him. One hand massaged a dark bruise along the side of his face.

Delos cleared his throat. "So, have you ever been to Nar Shaddaa, Lord Marius?"

The apprentice responded in a bone-dry tenor. His eyes remained fixed on the datapad. "Once, for a short time during the Academy. Why?" 

"Just wondering if you had any ideas about the place, beyond what's mentioned in the file from Imperial Intelligence."

"Does the file explain that it's an overpopulated Hutt-controlled world filled with aliens and criminals?"

"Well, yes."

"Then I don't have anything to add."

"Ah," Delos responded.

The silence resumed. 

_I am poffing the hell out of this,_ thought the sub-lieutenant. Serving on a Sith's personal attaché was a prestigious assignment. He wanted to excel. When Delos shared the news of his promotion with his family over the HoloNet, his father, Captain Janus Kayd, made sure to impress upon him its importance. “This kind of post can make your career!” The Captain proudly declared. "Or it could ruin you entirely. But you’re my son; I know you won’t muck it up. It’s a great opportunity. Serving a Sith will challenge you in ways you never dreamed of." 

The Captain knew what he was talking about. He represented four generations of military service: his father, grandfather, and great-grandmother had all been officers of the Sith Empire. Of Delos' five siblings, four were in public service. There was a lot to live up to in the Kayd family.

Sometimes that felt hopeless. Like now, when he was struggling to figure out the simplest part of his new role. _How am I supposed to serve this man well when I don't know anything about him?_

Marius’ dossier described his formidable combat experience and listed his age. Kayd, himself in his early thirties, was surprised to learn that Marius was several years his junior. The Pureblood didn't seem to carry himself like a younger man, but it was far too early to know anything certain about his personality. It could take months to get the true measure of a person. The sub-lieutenant had only spent a very uncomfortable hour in the apprentice's service.

Little else was revealed in the dossier. There was nothing about the Sith's personal interests, his childhood, family, nor enemies. Apparently Kayd's new commander – no, his new _lord_ – liked to keep to himself. 

Marius may have once been friends with the Zabrak apprentice, Ciaran. But gossipers on the _Golden Vanity_ said that the two Sith had a violent falling out that left an utter mess in Cargo Bay C. The bruise on Marius' jawline seemed to support that theory of events, but it didn't seem a wise thing to ask about it.

_Maybe he likes sports?_

The transit to Nar Shaddaa would take eight more hours under current hyperspace conditions. Delos checked the courier's hyperdrive readouts a fourth time. All systems were still fine, of course.

Eight long, boring hours. 

Kayd glanced a bit desperately at the reflection in the view screen. "Would you care to listen to some music, sir?"

Marius looked up sharply from the datapad. "Sub-lieutenant," he rumbled. "Turn around."

Wincing, Delos swiveled his seat until he was facing the Sith. "Yes, my lord."

Marius leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. Delos swore he felt the tiny cockpit shrink even further. "You have never served a Sith before me, have you?"

"Right. Not in such a...permanent capacity."

"And I have never had a steady crew before. Not even a crew of one." Marius leaned back and tapped the datapad against the armrest. Delos breathed a little easier.

"Eventually I would like for us to get to a point where I don't always have to tell you what to do," the apprentice continued after a moment, "so during these first few weeks under my command, you'll need to be attentive to learn my preferences."

There was really only one way to respond to that. "Yes, my lord."

"If you do something wrong, I will tell you how to do it correctly, and then you'll fix it." Marius smiled flatly. "I won't punish you unfairly. After all, you're not a slave. "

Delos struggled with a flare of indignance. "Thank you, Lord Marius." _So the fledgling apprentice treats you like a house servant and not like an officer. Get over it. It could be much worse._

"I consider it a fair arrangement." The apprentice seemed to speak in response to Kayd's thoughts, which, the sub-lieutenant realized, was a real possibility. 

"First thing," Marius continued. "Stop trying to chat with me."

Delos looked puzzled. 

"Small talk," Marius clarified. "I can't stand it. I'm trying to read. Never, ever interrupt me with banalities while I’m reading."

"Very well...my lord."

Without further comment, the apprentice picked up his datapad. Delos swiveled his chair to face the hyperdrive console, and then stopped. He swiveled back.

He was an Imperial officer, damn it. He was commissioned to use his brain and to bring some kind of value to this assignment, not to sit placidly in the corner doing tricks like a trained kath hound. 

"If I might make a suggestion, Lord Marius," Delos began.

For a moment Marius simply regarded the sub-lieutenant over the top edge of the datapad. "Go on," he growled.

"We have eight more hours of hyperspace travel before we reach Nar Shaddaa," Kayd explained. "The cabin on this ship is small but private, and I think you may find it easier to read back there. I can remain on the bridge until we arrive in case any issues arise." He pointed towards the short, narrow corridor leading to the back of the ship. "If something does happen, you're just a few feet away." He hoped that was diplomatic enough.

Marius thought for a moment, then rose from the captain's chair and strode to the dimly-lit corridor. "Tell me if anything is out of order," he instructed. 

"Of course, Lord Marius."

The apprentice paused before leaving the bridge as if he were going to say something, but then stepped wordlessly into the darkness.

*****

>   
>  Dyna,
> 
> You were right; I admit it. I've barely had time to sleep, let alone place a call. So I yield to your asynchronous letter-writing. I should have simply surrendered forthright. You're a psychiatrist, and my twin. Is there a more persuasive combination?
> 
> I must warn you that I haven't written anything but military reports in years. I'm not even sure where to begin.
> 
> We're currently in-transit to Nar Shadda, having just begun my new assignment with Darth Salire's apprentice. It's probably too early to say for certain, but I think you can tell Mother and The Captain to stop worrying about me being posted to a Sith's detail. Marius (that's the apprentice's name) seems levelheaded. A bit strict, but fair. He's a Pureblood, a few years younger than I am. I wish I had more to report, but he doesn't talk much. 
> 
> I know what you're thinking, and no. For a non-human he's handsome, but I have no idea where his interests lie. More importantly, he's my superior, and it would just be a terrible idea to get involved with a Sith. It's difficult enough keeping my relationships secret without having to worry about a lover who could read my thoughts or choke me to death with his mind. Unlike the rest of our family, I don't seek drama. 
> 
> Speaking of which, how is Adem? I haven't hear anything from him since the trimester began three weeks ago. 
> 
> Love,  
>  Delos  
> 

*****

Delos encrypted the message and sent it via hyperwave transmission to his sister's personal account. He could send it to her government address, but the Outreach Bureau looked down on the use of their assets for personal purposes. Officers in the military had more leeway, perhaps because the Ministry of War was the most powerful and important of the Imperial ministries. There were rules that seemed excessively strict in every ministry, however—but if that was the price for a peaceful, orderly society, Delos was willing to pay it. So were all loyal citizens. Crime rates on the main Imperial worlds were the lowest in the galaxy.

At least that's what the state-controlled media reported. Delos checked the cockpit instruments. All good. He leaned back in his chair.

As a younger man, Delos had hoped to become a journalist, to travel the galaxy and learn the pure, objective truth of things. Money got in the way, of course. Careers in the arts and humanities were superfluous in the militaristic Empire, so colleges that taught those subjects were obscenely expensive. 

Janus Kayd wouldn't pay for his son to receive "a coward’s education," and Delos didn't score high enough on the entrance exams to earn a scholarship. Thus ended his fantasy of being a journalist. 

Delos suspected that most dreams in the galaxy died not for lack of will, but lack of financing.

After he failed the exams, Captain Kayd expected his middle son to begin officer training right away. Instead, in an uncharacteristic display of rebelliousness, Delos joined the infantry. Both his father and mother were beside themselves. Janus was furious that his son had chosen a profession so far beneath the family legacy; Trilly was horrified because the infantry was incredibly dangerous. Enlisted men were usually from the lowest castes of Imperial society. They were easily recruited, rapidly trained, and quickly replaced. Expendable. 

Delos survived, however. When he returned home after three years on the front lines, the Captain admitted that his middle son was not the sissy he had always feared him to be. Delos re-enlisted as an officer, just like the Captain always wanted. It wasn't journalism, but he still got to travel the galaxy.

_Nar Shaddaa,_ thought the sub-lieutenant. He glanced at the dashboard again; still normal. _I've never been to a world controlled by aliens. I wonder if it's the cesspool the files claim it to be. So many cultures, thrown together in a tight space. What words did the report use? "Barely civlized. Unstructured violence and general crude behavior are commonplace." That was part of it. Also "Beware of pirates and con-men."_

Loud, angry beeping erupted from the dashboard. Delos surged from his chair and looked down at the instruments. Red-and-yellow warning text flashed across all the cockpit's screens. 

[WARNING: GRAVITATIONAL ANOMALY DETECTED.]

"Rotten piece of slag!" Delos reached towards the ceiling. The navigation data showed a clear route when he calculated their path through hyperspace a few hours ago. They were now on that very same course, yet headed straight for something big – a rogue planet, or a comet. Whatever it was, he had to get them into realspace before they got too close. Massive objects ripped ships out of hyperspace with explosive results. 

He found the large emergency lever and yanked it down.

The ship tumbled from hyperspace. The ship's intertia control systems should have kicked in upon the transition to realspace physics, but an unseen force acted against them. The caravel bucked and shuddered. Delos was thrown into the far wall of the bridge and fell to the floor. The ship's hull let out a long, painful moan.

Then, brief silence. 

It was interrupted by heavy footsteps coming from the back of the ship. Delos looked up from where he was sprawled across the deck. Marius walked by without a word. 

Delos rose from the floor stood beside him at the dash. The Sith had the sensor array powered up and was probing nearby space. "It was a gravitational warning, sir," the sub-lieutenant explained, straightening his uniform, "but the route was clear. There shouldn't be anything even remotely close to this location."

Marius remained focused on the sensor interface. "How current is the data?"

"Two weeks old, sir." The Sith looked down at Kayd, his yellow eyes narrowed. The sub-lieutenant raised his hands in defense. "It was the most current data available, Lord Marius. No one looks after the infrastructure out here."

"I suppose that’s true." Marius turned back to the sensor readouts, and Delos breathed a noiseless sigh of relief. 

"Nothing here," Marius concluded after a few seconds. "No asteroids, no rogue planets, no large ships." He turned from the dashboard and closed his eyes.

"What was it, then? An equipment malfunction?"

"Quiet. I'm listening."

It took Delos a moment to understand that the Sith was "listening" with the Force. The sub-lieutenant assumed parade rest, waiting patiently

Moments later, the apprentice's eyes flew open. "Take the helm," Marius commanded, sliding into a seat at the weapons position. He pulled the targeting interface down from the ceiling and powered up the ship's single laser cannon. "Get us back into hyperspace. Now."

Delos did as instructed. "It's going to take a minute for the computer to spool up a valid route," he warned.

"Then we just have to stay alive for one minute. Easy. You fly, I shoot," Marius responded.

"Shoot what?"

 

"The pirates," the apprentice said, just as three corsairs dropped into realspace.

"So it was a gravity mine, then," Delos spat. "They placed it right along the hyperspace route. Hoth's frozen tits." 

"Shut up and fly, Kayd," Marius replied, but the ghost of a smile flashed across his face.

Both men hurriedly strapped themselves into their seats. Delos gripped the manual flight controls and shoved the ship into a nosedive, just as the corsairs opened fire.

The caravel was small and maneuverable, but it wasn't very fast in real space. Delos flew loops and corkscrews and nameless, twisted patterns in order to stay ahead of the pirates. They were getting closer, but they hadn't landed a shot. Yet.

Marius landed several hits with the laser cannon, but to little effect. "I could do more damage by pissing on them," the apprentice muttered.

"It's a courier-class ship, sir," Delos replied. He muscled the caravel into a hard left turn. "Great hyperdrive, but everything else is crap."

"Kayd," Marius growled.

"I know, I know. Shut up and fly."

Time ticked past, measured in heartbeats and adrenaline. "Hyperdrive status," Marius snapped.

Delos glanced at the helm displays. "Fifteen seconds." The lead corsair, an angular gray monstrosity spattered with white paint, surged forward until it trailed just behind their tiny vessel. Delos pulled the caravel's nose up at a ninety-degree angle, hoping the pirates would fly beneath them.

It wasn't enough. The corsair scored a hit which rocked the caravel, slamming the two men against their seat straps. Delos squeezed the accelerator and glanced fearfully at the hyperdrive display.

[ERROR. THE SYSTEM CANNOT BE FOUND.]

"They disabled the hyperdrive," Delos announced. Marius didn't respond.

Delos felt numb. The fight was over so quickly. 

He gripped the accelerator mindlessly. The pirates might try to ransom them. His father would pay; it would be embarrassing, but Delos would live. He didn't know if Darth Salire would pay for Marius.

"Kayd, stop the ship. Let them come to us."

He obeyed before fully comprehending what the Sith said. The caravel gently floated to a halt. "Sir?"

"We are allowing ourselves to be captured." 

The sub-lieutenant looked at Marius with concern. "My lord, there might be a hundred pirates on just one of those corsairs." 

The Pureblood wore a hard expression. "No matter. As soon as I set foot on that ship, they'll all be as good as dead." His eyes shone a bright yellow.

Delos didn't know how to respond, so he checked the sensor data. He expected to see the three ships closing around them. Instead, he saw them disappear one by one, as each corsair jumped to hyperspace.

"Lord Marius...they're leaving."

"What?!" The Sith tore free of his seat straps and launched himself at the helm. Delos was still strapped into his seat, but Marius bent right over him and started examining the display. 

The physical proximity was unnerving. Sub-Lieutant Kayd suddenly became aware of Marius as another being—not as a Sith, not as someone who could slaughter a hundred pirates with mystical powers, and not as his commander, but as another person who _chose_ to exist in a certain way. This man chose solitude over conversation. He chose to keep his hair short and to wear traditional Sith attire even while in transit to Hutt space. Did that mean anything?

He also chose to wear cologne scented with desert thorntree. Did _that_ mean anything?

No, no. He should _not_ be noticing things like that. Delos closed his eyes. _This is incredibly awkward and uncomfortable._

Marius withdrew a second later, leaving Kayd to once again wonder if the Sith had heard his thoughts. The sub-lieutenant unfastened the straps that held him upright, then swiveled his chair to face the center of the tiny bridge.

The apprentice stood behind the captain's seat, his hands resting on the back of the chair. "What do you know about gravity mines, Kayd?"

Delos buried his earlier feelings of discomfort. Duty called. "They're manufactured singularities. A specialized buoy holding a quantum compressor is placed somewhere along a hyperspace lane. When it's activated, the buoy essentially creates a black hole. The singularities are relatively small, but massive enough to tear a ship out of hyperspace."

"Such a device would need a large power source."

"There's one on the buoy, but it's only enough to sustain the singularity for a few hours. After the singularity collapses, the remaining matter from the buoy is consumed in a minor explosion."

"That's what pummeled the ship after we dropped from hyperspace?"

Delos nodded. "It's possible. It could have had sensors, and been rigged to explode as soon as a ship appeared nearby." He tugged at his ear. "Sir, these mines are expensive. Once a mine is activated, it only has a few hours of power. So you have to know when a ship is coming through. You have to have good coordination and reliable intelligence. That’s why gravity mines are used to take out capital ships, not teensie caravels with sub-lieutenants and apprentices."

Marius stared.

"No offense, my lord," Delos added quickly.

"You said...what was that word?"

The sub-lieutenant frowned. "Teensie?" 

“A human word?” When Kayd nodded assent, Marius gave a dry chuckle. "Ridiculous."

Delos kept his expression carefully neutral. “Yes, sir.”

The Pureblood was instantly serious again. "You're saying that pirates generally wouldn't possess gravity mines, and if they did, they wouldn't waste it on a couple minor Imperial citizens." He looked pointedly at his subordinate. "You know where that leaves us."

"I wouldn’t say you’re a minor citizen, sir.”

Marius smirked. “The flattery is noted and appreciated, but be realistic. I’m just an apprentice.” 

“So, either the pirates were inconceivably stupid for wasting a gravity mine on our little ship, or they were hired as assassins?"

"Not assassins," Marius corrected. "They disabled our hyperdrive, then left us alone. I believe they merely intended to prevent us from getting to our destination." He lifted his arms from the back of the captain's chair and folded them across his chest. "We’re Darth Salire’s representatives. Someone doesn't want us at Jurda the Hutt's festival, and they want her to know. It's a message. They left us alive so we could tell the Darth about the attack."

"So what do we do?" Delos asked. “Our hyperdrive will need to be replaced. The nearest space station is three months away at sub-light speeds, but that’s the fastest we can travel right now.”

"Our mission hasn’t changed,” Marius replied. “We’re going to Jurda the Hutt's festival. Send out a distress beacon."

Delos turned to the helm and entered a few commands. He turned back. "Done. I sent out the standard Imperial recording, but it may be a while before someone picks up the signal."

"We're right next to a hyperspace lane. Someone will come along."

"Should I send a message to the _Vanity?_ "

"Send a text-only message. Tell them we were attacked in transit, that we suspect there may be a spy aboard the _Vanity_ , and that I will contact the Darth when we arrive on Nar Shaddaa. Encrypt the message, sender and location data."

"That's all, sir?"

Marius sniffed. "I'm not sending back for help on my first solo mission. I'll starve to death out here first."


	2. You Only Live Once

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions rise as Marius and Delos Kayd wait for rescue.

**3661 BBY  
Imperial date 1312.11.28**

Optimism prevailed for the first hour after Delos Kayd transmitted the distress signal, but after that, the mood in the undersized cabin started to corrode. The hours dragged on, sleepily; time itself seemed to nod off.

Waiting could dissolve morale like nothing else, but Delos had a lot of practice resisting its effects. Military service involved a long bouts of sitting around punctuated by intense periods of action. He was used to a “hurry up and wait” _modus operandi._

Yet while Delos felt confident in his own ability to resist tedium, he was not so sure about Lord Marius. Sith usually didn’t have to wait for anything.

At first, the Sith apprentice tried to meditate, sitting in the captain’s chair as before. Then he gave up and tried reading again. Eventually, he surged from the chair, tossed the datapad to Kayd in disgust, and began wordlessly pacing along the walls. Delos thought the cockpit was cramped enough without the large man tramping to and fro, but he tried to ignore it. Sith warriors were rarely described as patient people, and Marius could have chosen worse methods of dealing with boredom.

_He probably will, if we don’t get rescued soon._ It would be easier if the apprentice weren’t so quiet and uptight; conversation would help pass the time. Excluding that, Delos simply hoped that Marius would stay calm and that they’d continue to get along.

The sub-lieutenant rubbed his eyes and tried again to focus on the datapad the Sith had flung at him. It was without a doubt one of the driest, most esoteric collections he’d ever seen written in Basic, containing titles like _Neuronics in Droid Programming_ and _The Encyclopedia of Galactic Republic Infrastructure_ , Volume 1. Drawn by the title, Delos had selected _Advanced Djem So_ , but he progressed through only five pages of the text since opening it a half hour ago. None of it made any sense to him, although the diagrams of lightsabers were fun to look at.

Delos set the datapad aside and glanced at the glowing dashboard readouts. “Five hours, sir,” he reported, trying to stay positive. “Still nothing.”

“We will be fine,” came the terse reply from the back of the cockpit. “Some commerce or transport ship will come along in time. I know it.”

“Does the Force tell you, sir?” It was an innocent question, but Delos turned to see burning yellow eyes glaring at him. Marius continued to stalk across the room, looking increasingly like a caged animal.

“Reason, Kayd. Deduction. We’re in a fairly busy hyperspace lane.”

The sub-lieutenant looked towards the floor deferentially. “Sorry, sir. I meant no offense. I was just curious.”

“Do not ask me about the Force. You can’t possibly understand.”

“Of course.” Delos swiveled back to face the viewscreen, propping up his chin with one hand. Gazing into the depths of space through the view screen, watching the stars slowly twirl past, he mindlessly started to tap a light rhythm on the dashboard. 

Had it not been for the fact that their mission was in jeopardy, and there was an increasingly agitated Sith just a couple meters away, it would have been peaceful out here, floating in the Rim. Delos once heard an officer describe her trip to a local nebula. She and her fiance took a cruiser to the middle of the gaseous expanse and cut their engines, spending a day simply adrift in the colors. At the time, Delos though it was a terrible, boring idea for a date. Now, though, he could imagine it: a nice red blend, a handsome blond gentleman for company —

The thump of footsteps abruptly ceased. “Stop DOING that,” Marius hissed. 

Delos lifted his hands from the dash and turned to face his commander. Now Marius gave the impression of an enraged feline, back stiffened and hair raised. “I’m sorry sir...what was I doing?”

“You were tapping your _fingers_ in time with my _boots_.”

“I see.” Delos stared at the floor again, nodding thoughtfully for a few seconds. 

Marius finally broke the silence with an exasperated sigh. “You have an idea. Tell me.”

“In the interest of self-preservation,” Delos began, “I’d like to try something to speed up our rescue. We’re currently sending out a standard Imperial distress signal. Maybe the ships coming through this area aren’t interested in rescuing Imperials.”

The Pureblood seemed to relax a bit. “Why?”

“Because there’s no profit in it. I imagine many of the ships travelling this route are shady operations, just like the pirates who attacked us. They’re not altruistic by nature, and since the Empire doesn’t officially negotiate with kidnappers, they have no clear incentive to help us. My father would pay a nice sum as a private citizen, but our potential rescuers don’t know that. And, no offense, but I’m not sure that Darth Salire would...”

Marius raised a hand, and Delos trailed off. “You suggest we offer a reward.”

“Yes. I think 5,000 credits should do the trick. Do you have that much?”

“One of the benefits of being an apprentice for Darth Salire is unlimited credit.”

Delos whistled. “You charge, she pays?” In response, Marius nodded once. “So if we get to Nar Shaddaa, can we buy a better ship?”

The Pureblood shrugged away the question. “If we must. We _will_ reach Nar Shaddaa; let me worry about how. Just record the new distress signal.”

Something in the apprentice’s tone made Delos’ scalp prickle, but he didn’t feel bold enough to press for more details. Instead, he checked the input levels on his headset’s microphone. Life in the Empire was easier if you didn’t ask questions. 

Besides, that wasn’t him anymore. Journalists questioned. Officers obeyed.

So instead of the pre-recorded blather they transmitted earlier, the new distress signal featured the distraught voice of one Sub-Lieutenant Delos Kayd, offering 5,000 Imperial credits if someone, _anyone_ , would come rescue him and his commander —

“Injured. Tell them I’m injured,” Marius interrupted. 

The sub-lieutenant snapped the microphone's off-switch with a hint of irritation. “Okay, but I’m going to have to record this all over again.”

“So? Do it.”

Delos sighed inwardly and snapped the microphone back on. 

“...five thousand Imperial credits to the crew of any ship that offers aid to myself and my gravely injured commander. Please help us. You are our only hope.” Delos choked off the last words in a strained, grief-stricken voice.

“A bit melodramatic,” Marius commented dryly, once Delos stopped recording.

Frowning, the sub-lieutenant craned his neck to look at the towering apprentice, who hovered behind his shoulder. “Do you think it’s too much?”

“Whoever hears this message will think you’re a babbling coward.”

The words were a bit too close to those once wielded by Captain Kayd. _Speak up, boy. We don’t want anyone to think you’re a sissy._

But Delos was far from the shy teenager he used to be. Ignoring the memories Marius’ observation had stirred up, the sub-lieutenant responded without missing a beat. “That sounds like an easy rescue, sir.”

“Indeed — or a tempting target. Either way, it will pique someone’s interest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration for this installment of _Songs in Shadow_ goes to the eponymous song by the Strokes.


	3. Reptilia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marius has a plan for dealing with their rescuers, but Delos disagrees.

**3661 BBY  
Imperial date 1312.11.28**

A mere hour later, a quiet beep from the dashboard alerted Delos that a ship had dropped into nearby realspace. With his heart pounding, the sub-lieutenant dropped his feet from the dashboard and hunched over the panels to review the sensor readings.

Marius was at his side half a moment later. “What do we have, Kayd?”

Delos excitedly tapped a blinking yellow dot on one of the map displays. “This just dropped out of hyperspace, about a quarter AU from here. Very near.” 

The Pureblood leaned in for a closer look. Below the dot that represented the newly arrived ship, the screen displayed additional data estimating its size and model. “It appears to be a yacht of some kind. That’s promising.”

The comm system crackled to life, projecting an unfamiliar male voice into the cockpit. “Imperial caravel, do you copy?”

Delos snatched the comms headset dangling from a peg on the side of the viewscreen. He shot Marius a questioning look. “What do you want me to say?”

“Stick to our story,” his commander responded without hesitation. “We were attacked by pirates, they found nothing of value, and your commander is injured. Try to get them to dock.”

“You don’t want them to just lock on a tractor beam and tow us to the nearest station?”

“No, I want to take their ship.”

Kayd’s heart started hammering harder. Things were moving too fast. “Sir, is that really necessary?”

Before the Sith could respond, the yacht’s transmission came through the speakers. “Imperial caravel, do you copy? This is luxury transport _Spectrum,_ responding to your distress signal.”

Marius spoke with unexpected, yet forced, civility. “I don’t need you to agree, Kayd. Just obey. Get them to set up an umbilical between the two ships, and I will take care of the rest. Now _respond._ ”

Delos reluctantly complied. “Transport _Spectrum_ , this is Imperial caravel 344C5. Sub-lieutenant Delos Kayd speaking. I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you out here.” With raised eyebrows, he looked over at Marius, who nodded his approval.

“I’m sure you are,” the voice agreed. “This is Corvan Nutine; _Spectrum_ ’s my ship. Now, I’m headed to Bitrienne Station. We can make it there in about ninety minutes with me towin’ you. You ready for a tractor beam?”

Marius shook his head in silent disagreement. “Medical attention,” he mouthed.

“Ah, negative on the tractor beam, _Spectrum_ ,” Delos continued, watching as the Sith pantomimed the words he wanted the sub-lieutenant to say. “We have a casualty here. My commander is in rough shape and we don’t have any medical supplies left. Can you send some over first?”

Corvan gave an annoyed grunt. “He can’t wait? We’re kind of on a schedule.”

Marius rolled his eyes, but Delos held up a finger to pacify him. “I think he could make it, but he’s in a lot of pain.”

“All right, all right,” replied the voice from the other ship. “I’ll bring over some supplies, but we gotta make it fast. Copy?”

“Copy that. We’ll be quick. Thanks.”

Delos muted his microphone and turned to Marius. “There you go, my lord. What next?”

*****  
A hallway connected the caravel’s cockpit to its rear cabin. In absolute terms, the hallway was quite short, but it took up a good proportion of the small ship’s overall length. In the hallway were two access ports, each leading to one of the ship’s engine pods, and a hatch on the ceiling that connected to nothing but empty space.

Delos waited below this external hatch, listening for the series of sounds that would indicate that _Spectrum_ ’s umbilical passageway was locked against the caravel’s hull. The plan, as Delos had learned in the few minutes since the luxury transport's last transmission, was straightforward. All he had to do was open the hatch. After that, it was all up to Marius.

The sub-lieutenant glanced towards the end of the hallway. There, just in front of the cabin door, the apprentice stood with his eyes closed and arms crossed. Marius had removed his robe, revealing traditional Sith attire and a few pieces of undecorated body armor. The lightsaber displayed prominently on his belt was the man’s only weapon.

Suppressing another wave of skepticism, Delos checked the blaster strapped to the inside of his flight jacket. All of his training and experience in the field told him that their plan made no sense, but — as Marius reminded him earlier — he had never worked closely with Sith before. 

“Here it comes,” Marius called from the back of the ship.

_Bump._  
 _Click-click-click-click._  
 _BANG._

A light next to the ceiling hatch turned from red to green. Delos pressed the transmit button on his headset. “ _Spectrum_ , we have umbilical lock here. Can you confirm?”

“Confirm umbilical lock, sub-lieutenant.” Delos heard Corvan speak in his headset. “Go ahead and open this hatch.”

Delos pulled a lever on the wall, and the ceiling hatch slid open. He looked up to see a small box floating in the middle of a dimly lit steely tube, and behind it, an unfamiliar human male. Umbilicals were makeshift corridors that connected ships together, but they typically didn’t have artificial gravity generators of their own. As long as the man remained in the umbilical, he’d be in a zero-gravity environment. Transitioning between zero-g and gravity, as all spacefarers knew, could be disconcerting.

“Sub-lieutenant Kayd?” asked the stranger in a familiar voice.

“Yes, that’s me,” Delos replied. He felt a little guilty about what they were about to do to this good samaritan. “You must be Corvan Nutine. Thank you for your help.”

“Sure, well, that’s what those 5000 credits are for,” Corvan said gruffly. “You can pay me after we drop out of hyperspace near Bitrienne.” He pushed the box forward towards the hatch. “Here are those medical supplies you asked for.”

As it edged past the lip of the hull, the caravel’s artificial gravity took hold of the box and dropped it right into Delos’ waiting arms. “That should be all we need for now. Thanks again, Corvan.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, the sub-lieutenant saw Marius raise one hand, gloved fingers outstretched.

“No problem.” The shipowner turned, preparing to traverse the umbilical corridor back to _Spectrum_. Marius clenched his hand into a fist and pulled it rapidly towards the floor. 

Delos barely got out of the way as Corvan Nutine tumbled through the external hatch. The transport captain slammed into the floor face-first. Before he had a chance to recover from the impact, Delos darted in and took the man’s blaster from the holster on his chest. Seeing a small communications device embedded in the man’s ear, Delos removed that, too.

But Corvan didn’t seem interested in fighting. Instead, he slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position. “Shouldn’t have bothered with Imperials,” he muttered to himself. “Cash first, then service. That’s the rule, Newt, you kriffin’ lob.”

“Cooperate, and we’ll let you live.” Delos spoke with conviction that he did not feel. In truth, he had no doubt that Corvan Nutine would die as soon as _Spectrum_ was secure. Marius would kill him outright or order Kayd to execute him. 

Delos had never been ordered to shoot a civilian in cold blood before, but he had killed many of them on the field. Sometimes they were collateral damage, and sometimes they weren’t — it depended on the Empire’s objectives for each situation. Was there a moral difference between taking out civilians in combat situations and shooting a captured man in the back of the head? Maybe, but it wasn’t his place to decide. Perhaps he could worry about such things when he got a few more pins on his collar.

Corvan, now sitting, leaned wearily against the wall. “Listen, Kayd.” The man spoke with a curious accent that Delos couldn’t place; some of the the _r_ sounds became _eh_ sounds: “Whatever you think you’re gonna pull here, it isn’t gonna work. You won’t be able to pilot my ship, simple as that.”

“We shall see,” Marius boomed, approaching from the back of the hall. 

Corvan swore. “Sith? Aw, blast me. You’re Sith. _Hells_.” 

“Watch him closely, sub-lieutenant.” In one fluid motion, Marius crouched below the external hatch and shot into the umbilical. The inertia of his supernatural leap carried him rapidly towards _Spectrum_ ’s sleek hull.

“Hey! Listen!” Corvan suddenly scrambled forward, shouting after the Sith apprentice. “The system’s encrypted! You won’t be able to fly it without help! Do you hear me? _You’ll need us!_ ”

Delos pressed a boot against the man’s shoulder and shoved him back against the wall. “Just stay there, Nutine. Don’t say anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Reptilia" is also a song by The Strokes. The line "I said please don't slow me down / If I'm going too fast" is featured frequently in the lyrics, and to me it echoes how Marius responds to Delos' hesitation about taking over _Spectrum._ "Yeah, we're going to take over a ship. So what?"


	4. Thrills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marius encounters a child and has to decide whether to kill her.

**3661 BBY  
Imperial date 1312.11.28**

Despite the conviction and bravado he displayed for Sub-lieutenant Kayd, Marius had doubted whether they would reach Nar Shaddaa on schedule. Even now, the defeated captain’s shouts trailed after the apprentice as he sailed through the umbilical, urging the Sith to abandon his plan to board the vessel. Marius paid the yelling little attention. His misgivings had been in error, clearly; _Spectrum’s_ remaining crew could not pose a threat to a Sith. 

The sleek white hull rushed at him, and Marius twisted in midair so that his feet were facing the yacht’s outer hull. 

Marius paused for a moment, floating gently in zero-g, one gloved hand resting gently on the door frame. He focused inward, listening to the rush of his emotions, aware of how they interacted with the Force around him like breath on a flame. As Marius felt the mental “heat” of the dark side intensify, he turned his attention outward, attending to the feelings of the living beings in his vicinity. 

First, he sensed Kayd. The short time they spent in close proximity had already made Marius more attuned to the sub-lieutenant’s unique “sound” within the Force. Right now, the officer seemed determined, with a touch of resignation. 

Marius then turned his attention to Corvan Nutine, owner and captain of _Spectrum_ , who was currently being guarded by Kayd back in the caravel. The dark side rumbled, growing in strength as Marius touched the man’s mind. He discovered a dissonant knot of feelings — guilt foremost, followed by fear, anger...and hope.

_Foolish man._ It was astounding, really, how persistently hopeful lesser beings could be when faced with Sith. During his past missions, Marius had sensed such optimism within a range of enemies, aliens and humans alike. 

The Zarrato family on Pampas was the most recent example. Chet Zarrato had begged for his life and for his family’s freedom. Pious Sith didn’t show mercy, however; they carried out their orders. So Marius swiftly decapitated the man and captured his wife and daughter, ignoring the twinge of guilt he felt as he closed the little girl into a holding cell. 

Marius pushed the memory from his mind in sudden disgust. _No distractions, no weakness._

He focused on _Spectrum_ itself, listening carefully for any life-forms aboard the vessel. There was only one, but its melody was too faint for him to discern. There were hints of fear, perhaps a note of defiance, but Marius couldn't be sure. He had been practicing the art of sensing emotions at a distance, but it was a difficult skill and his progress was slow. His talents lay in combat.

There was a crackling in his ear as Kayd established an audio connection. “Can you hear me, sir?”

“Yes. I’m about to enter the ship. Tell the captain to order his shipmate to open the access portal. Otherwise, I’ll cut my way in.”

A surge of apprehension from the captain indicated that Kayd had relayed the message. It also proved that Marius had correctly discerned the number of people aboard the transport. Perhaps Marius was better at reading people from a distance than he believed. 

Though they were overshadowed by fear, the captain’s feelings of confidence lingered. Why would that be?

“Enough waiting,” he declared over the comm. “I’m cutting my way in.” He ignited his lightsaber with his left hand and held onto the edge of the access portal with his right, steadying himself in midair. 

A second before he thrust his blade into the metal hatch, the twin doors of the portal slid open to allow him through. _Very good,_ Marius thought to himself. _The captain at least understands that there’s no reason to prolong the inevitable._

Marius pulled himself through the port and rolled onto a polished durasteel floor. He could see nothing but equipment: water purification systems, air recyclers, food storage. He must be on one of the lower decks. The ship’s engines would be nearby, probably behind locked doors. He needed to get to the bridge. 

A ladder at the edge of the room lead to a hatch on the ceiling, four meters up. Marius leapt directly to the top rung, boosted by the Force. The narrow hatch hissed open at the press of a nearby button. It was an uncomfortable fit. Whoever designed the luxury ship hadn’t done so with armored Sith warriors in mind.

The engineering section notwithstanding, Marius found _Spectrum_ to be a undeniably appealing ship. It was opulent on a grand scale. As he quickly strode to the bridge, Marius admired the ship’s red-and-beige decor and tasteful artwork. The ship boasted open dining areas and well-furnished, voluminous common rooms — rare features in spacecraft. Most ships were built as compact as possible, since each square meter of living space needed to be pressurized and heated. 

_Spectrum_ even had wooden floors. Darth Salire herself would feel comfortable in such a ship, and soon, it would be his. _After a lifetime of deprivation, I’m finally getting what I deserve._

A burnished steel monolith of a door barred access to the bridge. Looking around for a security camera, Marius found one in the corner of the ceiling and fixed it with a glare. While staring down the camera, he ignited his lightsaber and aimed it at the door.

“This resistance is pointless,” he lectured to the camera. “You can let me onto the bridge, or I can demolish the door. Your choice.”

The door slid open, and through it soared a rapid volley of yellow blaster shots. Marius brought his lightsaber to bear, and while he slashed the bolts of energy from the air with one hand, he reached out with the other and pulled the blaster from his attacker’s grasp. He tossed it far into the back of the ship.

“No!” exclaimed a small voice, followed by a string of mumbled expletives. The bridge’s lights were off, but there was enough illumination that Marius could see a small being scurry off and hide under one of the consoles. 

He sighed. This was getting tedious. He reached out with the Force to feel for booby traps. Finding none, the Sith stepped through the doorway onto the bridge. 

The lights switched on with a flick from the Force. _Spectrum_ ’s bridge wasn’t as luxurious as the rest of the ship, but it was still plush. Chairs for the captain and first mate, upholstered with real leather, sat before a series of dashboard panels and a wide viewing portal. In a nook at the side of the room was a compact sitting area, furnished with a cushioned bench and beverage table. 

A small Twi’lek with bright green skin was squeezed beneath the table. She held her arms across her face while she strained to make herself even smaller, pushing with her feet against the shiny hardwood floor.

A child.

*****

In general, Marius enjoyed killing. Not in the way that Ciaran did — that man enjoyed making others suffer. Marius loved the thrill of combat. He relished the rush of adrenaline and the satisfaction that he felt after skillfully dispatching an enemy. He loved the feeling of anticipation that flowed through him before a fight, and the intoxicating power that the dark side carried into his every movement. He enjoyed fighting against impossible odds.

Marius entered _Spectrum_ ’s bridge with the intention of quickly executing whoever he found there, but upon realizing that his quarry was a young girl, he hesitated.

_First the Zarrato girl, now this Twi’lek whelp. Why do children affect me so?_ Younglings were often killed as collateral damage in larger military operations — that was warfare. They were helpless, and as a Sith, he shouldn’t think twice about crushing small, weak beings. He should kill the girl.

Marius stood motionless for several seconds. His lightsaber hummed loudly in the small space. Then, decisively, he switched the blade off and sat in captain’s chair. From where he sat, he could only see the tips of the girl’s boots, quivering.

“Come out,” he said.

No response. 

“I won’t hurt you. Come out and talk to me.” He reached out with his mind to hers and felt terror there. Not very surprising, considering the circumstances, but he also felt determination. He gave her a mental nudge to reinforce his words. 

The girl reluctantly emerged from underneath the console and walked to a spot next to the first mate’s chair. She couldn’t have been more than eleven years old. Aside from her skin, which approached a neon shade of green, her appearance was unremarkable. She was dressed in gray leggings, a puffy brown coat trimmed with fake fur, and an oversized blue sweater with the sleeves pulled down over her thumbs.

The girl shoved tears away from her eyes. “What do you want?”

Marius saw no reason to lie. “Your ship.”

“Can’t you just pay for us to fly you around like everyone else?”

“I shouldn’t have to when I can very easily take it for my own.”

The girl huffed, suddenly defiant. “You haven’t taken anything yet. No one can steal _Spectrum_. You won’t even be to fly her.”

The captain, Nutine, had said something similar back on the caravel. “Tell me why.”

She stuck her chin in the air. “The whole propulsion system has been encrypted. _Spectrum_ watches our vital signs — mine and Corvan’s. If we’re in a spot where the ship could be stolen, I just run the program, and then the computer locks up. She won’t accept any commands unless we’re both on board and our vitals are normal.” 

Marius was a competent slicer in his own right, but the kind of tricky hacking that the girl described was far beyond his abilities. It was possible that the girl was some kind of prodigy — if the system worked, of course. A quick brush of the girl’s mind told Marius that she was telling the truth, but he tried to enter a few lines into the nearest console just to be certain. The system promptly shut him out. “What’s your passcode, girl?”

“I’m not telling.”

“It doesn’t matter.” The question itself had brought the phrase to the front of the Twi’lek’s consciousness, where Marius then plucked with ease from her mind. It was a silly phrase; something an immature being would find amusing.

He rubbed his ridged forehead in irritation. This was his first serious mission, and nothing was going as planned. He was supposed to be on Nar Shaddaa making a name for himself, not typing things like _Fuzzy Pink Snot Kitten_ into an alien pre-teen’s computer.

He entered the phrase into the terminal, only to get shut out again. _Spectrum_ was basically theft-proof. Not even torture wouldn’t be an effective way to get the crew to reactivate the ship; any attempts to coerce the crew would likely cause their vitals to spike beyond the acceptable range. 

His plan to commandeer a ship for himself was no longer viable, but all was not lost. As every Sith knew, sometimes failure could reveal new opportunities. “Impressive,” Marius commented aloud. “You did this?”

“Yeah, I did. It took me months and it cost the boss a bunch of credits, but it works.” She crossed her arms and glared at Marius. “So if you kill us, you’ll have our ship, but it will take you months to get it running again.”

“I won’t hurt you. I already said that.”

The Twi’lek shrugged and collapsed into the chair next to him. “Some people lie. You know, like people who say they need to be rescued and then try to take your ship.”

“Don’t make me go back on my word, little Twi’lek,” Marius growled.

She winced, then continued in a more respectful tone. “Sorry. Are you going to let us go?”

“No. We need transportation; we have to get to Nar Shaddaa as soon as possible.”

“So what are you going to do?”

Marius looked over at the child, who had drawn her knees to her chest and was spinning the first mate’s chair in circles. She looked almost carefree, but Marius suspected it was simply her way of coping with the stress of her situation. Singing in the dark, as it were.

Her fears were unfounded; keeping her alive and happy was the now the best way to get what he wanted. Marius again reached for the comm device in his ear. “Kayd, I’ve secured the ship...after a fashion.”

“Copy that, my lord. What’s wrong?”

Marius explained _Spectrum_ ’s special capabilities. “I see no other way; we will have to charter the ship.”

It’s what Kayd wanted to do from the beginning, but the sub-lieutenant wisely refrained from pointing that out. “Yes, sir.”

“Bring the captain over here so we can negotiate transportation to Nar Shaddaa.”

*****

“No. No way.” Corvan Nutine said, vehemently rejecting Marius’ offer. “I don’t care about the credits. I am not taking you to Nar Shaddaa, or anywhere.”

Marius rolled his eyes. Dealing with non-Sith could be so frustrating. Sith could work together towards a common goal as long as there was mutual self-interest; this was true even between enemies. 

“Well,” the apprentice replied, “then it appears all of us are staying right here. I’m not leaving.” Marius reclined in the leather-bound captain’s chair and rested his boots on the edge of a nearby wood-framed console.

Sub-lieutenant Kayd looked on from his position in the bridge’s entrance, smirking a bit at his commander’s rude negotiating tactics. Marius was pleased to sense that Kayd, despite his amusement, remained sharply attuned to the events that were unfolding before him. The officer held his arms folded across his chest, one blaster resting on his shoulder with its safety off. Kayd would be ready if _Spectrum_ ’s captain tried anything, but Marius knew that Nutine wouldn’t try to fight. 

“Fine. We can just sit out here, then,” the yacht captain shot back. He marched to the cushioned bench and plopped down, lying back with a pointed sigh.

Marius turned to the little Twi’lek female, who remained curled up on the first mate’s chair next to him. “You never told me your name, girl.”

“Ruko’ta. People call me Ru.” 

“Ru.” It was simple, a typical Twi’lek nickname. “How much would your captain usually charge a client for a trip to Nar Shaddaa?”

“From where we are right now? It depends, I guess. Is the client smuggling anything?”

“Ru, don’t,” Corvan warned from his place on the couch. In this situation, Marius couldn’t help but feel amusement at the girl’s cheekiness. He’d never tolerate such an attitude from his own alien slave, though. If he owned one.

_One thing at a time._

“What? C’mon boss, we’re safe; it’s just business now. We can’t stay out here forever.” The girl dropped her feet to the floor and leaned forward, looking Marius square in the eye. “I think for two passengers with no big cargo, we’d usually charge...” She quoted a very large number. 

Marius felt Kayd’s incredulity from across the room. For a low-level officer of the Empire, it was an exorbitant amount of credits. But to a Sith? “I’ll double it,” he declared.

Ru inhaled sharply. “Ooooh, Corvan...did you hear that?” She turned towards the far side of the cabin. “That’s _so many credits!_ Think of all the _upgrades_...”

Corvan remained lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling. “I’ll do it for triple the regular rate and nothing less. Consider it an asshole tax.”

“Done.” Marius removed his feet from the dashboard and rose, walking towards the exit. “Kayd will transfer the funds when he retrieves our belongings from our ship.”

“Fine. Oh, and I want the five thousand you offered as a reward.” Corvan sat up and fixed Marius with a reproachful look. “It would have been a lot cheaper for you if you had just given us the five thousand from the start, you know.”

Marius didn’t reply. Instead, with one hand on the doorframe, he simply stared the man down. After a few long, uncomfortable moments, Corvan broke his gaze and rose from the couch. “We’ll begin prepping the ship once the money is transferred,” he said sourly. He bent over a nearby console and started pressing buttons. “Go ahead and get settled in.”

*****

The two Imperials walked side-by-side through the yacht, heading back to the umbilical that connected _Spectrum_ to their disabled caravel. Marius could tell the sub-lieutenant was aghast at the amount of credits they just agreed to pay, but he hid it well. Kayd hadn’t said a word since the two of them left _Spectrum_ ’s bridge.

“You did well, sub-lieutenant,” Marius voiced, and he meant it. “You followed my instructions precisely, and you didn’t get in my way. That is all I require.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Kayd fixed his eyes straight ahead of him, not even glancing aside to admire the luxurious decor.

“I sense anxiety in you,” Marius continued. “You may speak freely.”

The sub-lieutenant let out a long rush of air from his lungs. “I heard what Corvan said to you, as we were exiting the bridge.”

The apprentice nodded. “And you agree that I should have simply paid the five thousand credits at the start, instead of attempting to take over this vessel.” He waved a gloved hand at their surroundings.

Kayd glanced up at him, and then looked away again. “Well, it _was_ a fraction of what we’re going to have to pay now.”

“This is true.”

They reached the panel that led down to the engineering deck. Marius opened it and leapt through, bypassing the ladder entirely and landing neatly on the floor. Kayd descended more slowly, although he skipped the ladder’s last few rungs. A few steps later, and they arrived at the umbilical hatch. 

Marius indicated for Kayd to wait. The sub-lieutenant turned to face him, automatically assuming parade rest while the Sith searched for the right words. “Had it not been for the girl, my plan would have worked.” He shrugged. “Little Ru is a genius slicer.”

Kayd was taken aback. “I didn’t realize that the slave created the system you described.”

“Yes.” Marius shook his head. “Such talent is rare, especially among the lesser races. Had it not been for her modifications, I probably could have taken the ship without even using my lightsaber. A crew of two is an easy mark, but I didn’t expect such sophisticated defenses.” He shrugged again. “I gambled and lost.”

“When faced with the choice of paying five thousand credits and taking two lives, most people would pay the credits,” Kayd pointed out.

“The lives of non-Imperials are worth next to nothing. You know this.” When Kayd mutely nodded assent, the Sith continued. “Corvan and Ru are now assets — the girl especially so, because of her talent. I may offer to buy her from the captain. But in general, I don’t go out of my way to preserve lives. I take the most efficient path to get what I need.” He leaned in, towering over the smaller man. “I suggest that you adopt the same attitude while serving under me.”

The human’s dark skin paled slightly at Marius’ threatening body language, but he remained composed. “I understand completely, sir.”

Marius doubted that Kayd really understood; according to Sith doctrine, all Force-blind beings were nearly worthless. Ru, Corvan, and the sub-lieutenant were all simply his tools. Yes, he hesitated to strike upon seeing that Ru was a child, but that emotional transgression could be overlooked. After all, he would have failed his mission had he killed the girl. 

So he showed mercy, once. He felt guilt, once. Marius could admit that he wasn’t a perfect Sith. But he would strive to do better.

Marius gestured to the umbilical. “Get our things and power down the caravel. I’ll remain here to make sure _Spectrum_ doesn’t leave without you.” He turned away, then turned back. Kayd was already crawling into the umbilical corridor. 

“Don’t forget my robe,” the apprentice called after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine Marius' thoughts as very dark and twisted. I hope I'm capturing some of that for you.
> 
> "Thrills" by _Cake_ was the backdrop for this chapter.


	5. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vyhra gets orders from Darth Salire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, it's been a while since I posted. Work has been stressful and sometimes busy, taking up morning and evening time. I just haven't had much energy for writing lately, but I will keep trying!

**3661 BBY  
Imperial date 1312.11.29**

Vyhra woke to the soft tone of a door chime. With a slight turn of her head, she glanced at her bedside clock and scowled. 

“My lady,” Andir, her human slave, called from the door. “Darth Salire has asked you to her quarters.”

“Shit,” Vyhra muttered. Though the Darth now had three apprentices, Vyhra would always be the most important of the three. She spent much more time with Darth Salire than her current counterparts, Ciaran and Marius. Still, summons delivered at three o’clock in the morning were rare. Something must be wrong.

Vyhra touched a panel on the wall next to her bed, and her room filled with muted white light. She threw off the covers and stretched, reaching down her bare legs to grasp her heels. Years of gymnastics training kept her muscles flexible, even without a proper warm-up.

“Lady Vyhra?”

“Yes, yes. I’m up, Andir.” With a small boost from the Force, Vyhra sprung from her massive canopy bed and landed near the walk-in closet at the far end of her room. Some Sith — that pretentious upstart Marius was one — might consider such a use of the dark side to be silly or even disrespectful, but Vyhra saw no reason to curtail her natural talents. 

Vyhra toed a Cathar slave girl who lay curled up on a floor mat. “Come on, Kitty, get up. I have to go to the Darth.” She was always careful not to reveal the true nature of her relationship with Salire to anyone, even her personal slaves. “Get my bathrobe, will you? I can’t go to her dressed like this.” 

Half-awake, the girl rose from the mat and eyed Vyhra’s skimpy shorts and tank top. “Yes, mistress.” 

“Your fur is sticking up all over the place,” Vyhra commented. “Hold still.” She grabbed one of Kitty’s arms by the wrist, smoothed the Cathar’s coppery coat with a few brisk strokes, then repeated the gesture for the other arm. 

Happily, Vyhra sensed only a hint of resentment from Kitty as she manhandled her; the shock collar that Vyhra installed six months back seemed to be having the desired effect of dampening the young Cathar’s emotions. 

Vyhra received the Cathar as a gift for her fifth birthday. They used to pull pranks on the engineering staff and steal shuttles for joyrides above Ziost. Once, they mastered an obscure alien language and used it to gossip loudly in front of the crew. Their conversations grew more daring and ridiculous until that day in the mess hall, when Kitty let loose such a torrent of smut and profanity that Vyhra choked on her muja fruit and had to be taken to the infirmary.

Kitty used to be smart. She used to be fun. Then she suddenly changed, and a year later Vyhra still didn’t know why. What relationship they had enjoyed as friends was gone. Now, only the relationship between master and slave remained.

Vyrha used her thumbs to tame the girl’s facial fluff, eliciting only a slight wince from the Cathar. “Much better. Off you go, then,” she directed. 

She waited for Kitty for a few minutes, passing the time by fixing the damage that sleep had done to the braid in her waist-length hair. Vyhra’s hair was jet black; her mother, by contrast, was a blonde. Many Sith Purebloods had black hair. Did that mean that Vyhra had Sith Pureblood somewhere in her ancestry? Probably not. It was fun for Vyhra to imagine being the long-lost member of some elite family — one that maintained a respectable estate on Dromund Kaas instead of living a nomadic existence on board a starship. But Darth Salire would never reveal the full details of her daughter’s complicated parentage.

According to her mother, Vyhra’s birth was made possible by a team of genetic scientists and a staggering amount of in-vitro manipulation. The scientists injected chemicals at certain stages of fetal development to alter Vyhra’s genome. Most of her physical characteristics had been selected by her mother, and likely some of her personality traits, too. 

Vyhra looked down at her body, trim yet powerful, attractive and deadly. But it wasn’t really hers. Salire owned it — owned her as surely as Vyhra owned poor Kitty. 

_To think that my mother decided how big my tits were going to be._

Cold rage coursed over her skin, and Vyhra reached out with the dark side power that touched her, searching the room for her saberstaff. The weapon flew from its stand on her bedside table and landed with a satisfying smack in her outstretched hand. Going armed to a meeting with one’s master was simple prudence for a Sith. There was no telling when an opportunity for revenge would present itself.

*****  
Minutes later, Vyhra was stalking barefoot through the corridors of the _Golden Vanity_. Kitty had dug up a silky midnight-blue dressing gown that billowed out behind her as she walked, but Vyhra had declined to wear the matching pair of slippers. The _Vanity_ was her home. She could walk around barefoot if she pleased.

She quietly padded her way to the elevator, making her way by the soft yellow glow of the night lamps. The residential decks of the ship were dimly lit, according to the late hour, but most areas of the ship never rested. The mess halls with their tepid food, the expansive flight decks, the bridge — all essential functions were staffed all hours a day. They flashed by brightly as the transparent elevator carried Vyhra to her master’s private decks. 

Vyhra stalked through the twisted hallways until she came to the familiar, unassuming door. She pressed her hand to the adjacent access panel, and it slid out of her way, revealing a dimly lit room with a huge holotable occupying its center. The Darth stood at the far end of the holotable, examining a solar system projected into the air by the device. She spun one of ghostly planets with a flick of her finger, orienting on a particular region and magnifying it for a closer view. A few lines of text appeared with each location, providing news from the Salire’s holdings all over the sector.

As soon as the door closed, her mother’s greeting rang out from the darkness. “It took you too long, daughter.” The Darth never called her _daughter_ unless they were alone together.

Despite the shadows, Vyhra could see that the Darth wasn’t wearing her usual skintight fabric mask. There wasn’t much of a familial resemblance between the two women. Vyhra’s long hair was bound in a thick, black braid that hung to her waist. Salire's angular features, slightly leathered with age and exposure to dark side energies, were framed by medium-length wisps of silver-blonde hair. Vyhra's eyes were soft, almost doll-like, while her mother's golden eyes had a sharpness that matched the ruthless will behind them.

Darth Salire flicked her wrist, spinning the holographic planets along their orbits. "When I call for you, I need you to attend _quickly_."

“It’s oh-three hundred,” Vyhra yawned. “The ship isn’t under attack. What is it that couldn’t wait until morning?”

“All _this_ requires a great deal of oversight.” Salire dodged the question, instead gesturing to the images hovering before her. “If you’re to inherit what I have built, you have to be willing to sacrifice simple luxuries on occasion."

“If there’s nothing important going on, getting out of bed in the middle of the night isn’t really a sacrifice -- it’s just a waste of time.” Vyhra crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow. “And what do you mean, ‘ _if_ I am going to inherit?’”

Her mother dodged that question, too, instead pressing a button on the projection controls. The planets disappeared from the display, and in their place appeared the holographic figure of a man in a cowled robe. 

“Master,” said the image in the recording, “I’ve arrived at Nar Shaddaa, and in a few minutes I will be heading to Jurda the Hutt’s complex. You requested a live conference when I reached the planet, but I no longer felt that I could establish a secure channel.”

“He sounds so academic,” Vyhra commented snidely. She reached out to pause the recording and received an impatient look from the Darth as a result. “Does he always sound this dry?”

“He adopts a special formality when dealing with me,” Salire mused. “You haven’t spent much time with Marius?”

“I don’t make a habit of getting friendly with the _help_ ,” Vyhra sniffed.

“Interesting,” said the Darth. She resumed playback on the hologram, leaving Vyhra to wonder what she meant.

“Our ship was disabled en route by a group of corsairs. I used your line of credit to charter a private vessel for the rest of the mission. We were able to pull some images of our attackers from the log, and I’ve included them with this recording, along with the location for the ship we left behind.” Marius’ image was replaced by several pictures, showing three corsairs from a half-dozen different angles. “These ships disabled our caravel and then jumped away. No deaths, no attempts at ransom. It makes me think they were simply sent to prevent us from reaching Nar Shaddaa.” The apprentice’s image re-appeared, then shrugged. “I believe the attack was a message. Someone doesn’t want the Empire represented at this festival, Master. I’ll contact you again when I have more information.”

“He did well,” observed Salire as the recording ended. 

Vyhra rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She must not have heard correctly. “What? How? He lost his ship.”

“Of course he did. I sent him out in a barely spaceworthy ship. That caravel was retired twenty years ago, right after Korriban. The cooling turbines were completely stuck. I’m surprised the deck crew could even get it to fly again.”

Vyhra wasn’t getting it. “Why?”

Her mother pressed a few more buttons on the side of the holotable, and the images of the three corsairs appeared again in the air. “Do you recognize these ships?”

“No,” Vyhra said crossly. _It would be great if Mother could answer my questions with, you know, actual answers._

The Darth silently regarded her for a long moment. When she spoke again, her tone was curt. “The corsairs. This Rodian was their leader.” She pressed another button. “Do you recognize him?” 

Vyhra suddenly felt like she was standing on very dangerous ground. Unfortunately, she didn’t recognize the pale green alien on the display. “No. I don’t know him.” 

“I hosted him in this very room four weeks ago. You were present, at least physically. Evidently your focus was elsewhere at the time.” Salire pointed to the ground directly in front of her. “Come here,” she commanded. 

Vyhra seethed against the punishment she knew was coming, but her earlier cockiness had abandoned her. She obeyed, walking to the other side of the holotable and coming to a halt directly in front of her mother.

It was easy for Vyhra to forget that Salire was not just her mother, not just an accomplished politician, but also a powerful practitioner of the dark side. It had been months since Vyhra saw the Darth use her powers. Until a few years ago, Salire had spent three hours each day tutoring the rapidly-maturing Vyhra in Sith sorcery. Now, the few hours per week that they did spend together was entirely focused on furthering Salire’s political influence in the Empire. 

But she remembered now. She remembered the Force lightning, the mind tricks — being tossed across a room like a child’s toy, flung by her mother’s will and command of the Force. She lowered her eyes and steeled herself against the onslaught.

Darth Salire slapped her.

The relief Vyhra felt at first quickly evolved into shame and outrage. Vyhra’s face stung. She raised her eyes and balled her fists at her sides, glaring down at the Darth. 

“You wish to kill me for insulting you,” Salire said lightly. She did not step back.

Vyhra didn’t try to hide it. “Yes.”

Salire nodded. “Most apprentices wish to kill their masters, at least at some point. Perhaps we’ll make a proper Sith of you yet.”

“I’m not just an apprentice, Mother,” Vyhra snapped, turning away to lean on the holotable. “I’m also your daughter. Your heir. But you treat me like a slave.” She turned back, throwing her hands up in frustration. “All I’ve been doing lately is going to business meetings and sneaking around in disguise as June Costero.”

Salire sighed audibly and reached for the holotable’s control panel. The images flickered and then vanished. “I wish I could send you to the Academy, Vyhra.”

The young Sith raised her chin defiantly. “I would excel. You know I would.”

The Sith Lord nodded. “You are very talented, as I hoped you’d be.”

“So send me there. Let me test myself against my peers, as a Sith should.” 

“If I were not a Darth, perhaps. Or, if I were a less successful one. But I have powerful enemies. They would assassinate you at the first opportunity out of a desire to weaken me.” 

Vyhra patted the saberstaff on her back. “There’s a simple solution to that. I’ll kill them.”

Salire was unable to conceal a very slight smile. “If they attacked you outright, you might,” Salire responded, resuming her usual somber demeanor. “But they would not. My enemies could bribe every last one of your classmates with immense wealth and power. They would construct events to make your death look like a training casualty. ” The Darth gave her daughter a pointed look. “You are powerful with the dark side, Vyhra, but you lack the experience to deal with that kind of situation.”

_I’m not going to get any more experienced by staying corralled on this ship,_ Vyhra thought. But she remained silent.

Darth Salire continued. “I’m not one of those foolish Sith Lords who hope to become immortal, like our Emperor. What I have built, however — what I am now putting in motion — _must_ continue after I am gone. I will do whatever is necessary to ensure that my operations continue.” The Darth leaned forward, propping her hands on the dormant holotable. “Right now, my plan requires Vale and June Costero to attend business meetings. You must stop this petulant behavior and recommit yourself to these efforts.”

Vyhra had to ask. “What if I don’t?”

“Then I will find another heir,” the Darth responded flatly.

The younger woman took a long time to respond. “What do I have to do?”

Satisfied, Darth Salire stood, crossing her arms thoughtfully. “These mercenaries must be dealt with. As I hoped he would, Marius concluded that some entity wanted to prevent his arrival at the festival. But I expected him to call for help after the corsairs’ attack. I didn’t foresee that he would procure his own ship.”

Vyhra shrugged. “He got lucky. Some cargo vessel must have come along at the right time.”

Salire nodded, running a gloved hand through her sleek blonde hair. “In any case, Marius is proving more resourceful than I expected. We cannot risk him tracking down the mercenaries and discovering that I hired them.”

“So you want me to go after the mercenaries.”

Salire nodded again. “Yes, with Ciaran’s assistance.”

Vyhra scowled. “I’m sure I can deal with them on my own.”

Salire responded without missing a beat. “I intend for you and he to take on more significant targets in a few months. You need to practice working together.”

“Really, Mother, I’m sure I can handle it by myself,” Vyhra pouted. She wasn’t going to win this argument, but she had to try.

Salire took her daughter by the elbow and led her to the door. “Girl, a Sith uses all the resources available to her. The Emperor doesn’t run all parts of the Empire by himself, no?” 

“But...”

“Enough with your arguments,” Salire said firmly, opening the door to the hallway. “You and Ciaran will go tomorrow. Now, go recover some of that sleep you were complaining about earlier.”

Vyhra faced her master and bowed low, trying to hide her frustration.


End file.
